


The Knight moves

by olympia_m



Series: Between two places [27]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series, 闇の末裔 | Yami No Matsuei | Descendants of Darkness
Genre: M/M, Self-Indulgent, you might call it angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 19:53:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12372870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olympia_m/pseuds/olympia_m
Summary: The Knight makes his move and brings the game to a draw.





	1. Chapter 1

The whole thing was insane. Oriya had mentioned once (once!) that he was going to organize a concert in Muraki’s memory, but Feilong hadn’t paid much attention. Back then he’d thought it was going to be something small, something with his geiko friends, and then forgot all about it. 

Instead, it was a concert at the Tokyo Dome with a few bands that even he had heard about, and a hundred thousand people screaming and jumping to the sound of rock. “This is insane,” he said once again. 

Someone patted him at the back. Feilong turned and took out his earplugs when he saw who it was. 

Akihito chuckled. “I have the exclusive rights to backstage photos.” He looked at Feilong behind his camera. 

Feilong put up his hand. “You’re not taking my picture.”

“Bah. Asami said the same.”

“He’s here?”

“Yes. At the bar. He too hates the music so he’s also wearing earplugs. You might need to kick him to get his attention.” Akihito suddenly frowned. “Or maybe not. You’re still not talking to each other?”

“No.”

“That’s just ridiculous. Asami says it’s because you’re being stubborn.”

“No, it’s because he’s being an idiot.”

Akihito pushed him towards the back. “Then. Go. Talk to him. This is as neutral a ground as you’ll ever get.”

Feilong smiled. Akihito was right, though, so he did go. They had to resolve this. 

He found Asami staring gloomily at his whisky. Feilong ordered one more and sat next to him. “You won’t find any answers there,” he said loudly. 

Asami looked up. “And do you have any?” 

“I do.”

Asami stared at him. “I’m waiting.”

“We can divide our spheres of influence, as you wish. Have our own Treaty of Tordesillas. Or we can join forces.”

“You know I can’t….”

“Why not? Feilong cut him off. “I’m willing to work with you. As an equal partner, mind you. But I will do it.” 

“Such a partnership would be more advantageous…”

“To both of us,” Feilon said before Asami finished. “I’ve been looking into it.” Feilong sighed. “I’ll be honest with you. I miss you. I miss my friend, and I don’t want to lose him over a business matter that can be easily settled.”

Asami couldn’t hide his surprise. “You. You mean that.”

“Yes. If you really want it, we’ll divide the world. I don’t have many friends, Asami. Keeping the few I have is more important to me than my pride.” He smiled. “But I still think it would be better if we worked together. So, if we do split the world, I will be calling you an idiot for the next ten years or so.”

Asami snorted. “I wouldn’t expect anything else from you.” He finished his drink. “If you’re willing to put aside your pride, then I can do the same. How about we work together for a trial period? See how that works. If it doesn’t, then we can draw up a treaty.”

Feilong offered him his hand. “Deal.”

Asami took it. “Deal.”

They both grinned. “Next round’s on me,” Asami said, signaling to the barman for two more drinks. “I’ll be damned if I have to listen to that noise fully sober. And to think I helped your boyfriend set this up. What was I thinking?”

Feilong shrugged. “You tell me. It seems to be going well, at least. It’s a very wild, very happy crowd out there.”

“Oriya must be happy.”

“No, he’s stressed out. I told him he doesn’t have to perform, but he’s determined to do it.” He took his drink, smiling to the bartender, and took a sip. 

Asami nodded.

“Akihito seemed happy.”

“Yes,” Asami smiled. “He expects to be well paid for his pictures.”

“And rightly so. He is a good photographer.”

“I keep telling him to let me arrange an exchibition of his pictures, but he says no.”

“He wants to do it on his own, Asami. He has his pride as a man.”

“Yes, but I have the resources to help his career. Why is he so… he lives with me, for fuck’s sake. Why doesn’t he let me take care of him in everything?”

“Because then he would feel like a kept man. Let him have his work.”

“I am, I just want to take care of him.” Asami frowned and pushed aside his drink. “Maybe I’ve had too much.”

“Maybe,” Feilong agreed. He smiled. “I like you being open with me. Friend.”

Asami smiled. He picked up his glass. “To friendship.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Feilong smiled back, raising his glass. “To friendship.”


	2. Chapter 2

Oriya’s ears were ringing and the air felt sticky and dry. He held on to his sword, waiting. 

“No need for that, Lord Mibu.”

“Master Su.” Oriya put down his sword. 

The god of death smiled and put down a package. “My Boss sends you this. He says it will be more suitable for your performance.” 

“Ah. Thank you. And thank him on my behalf.”

“I will.” Su sat down. “I don’t claim to understand what my Boss wants, encouraging you to bring back your friend. But I was ordered to stay here and support you, if something goes wrong.”

“Thank you.” He started opening the package.

“No dead can reach him where he is, but a living soul might. Perhaps my Boss wants to get him to the Underworld,” Su continued. “To have him be judged for his crimes.” 

Oriya frowned, taking out the black kimono, and tracing the symbols done in red against the white lining. “You think that’s what I’ll be doing? Freeing him only to guide him to his death?” He sighed. “I dreamt of your Boss, my Master, a few months ago. He didn’t seem to want Muraki dead.”

Su’s gaze was drawn on the red markings. “What my Boss plans is incomprehensible to me, and the less I think about it, the better. I suggest you do the same. It will make life easier,” he smiled. 

The nagajuban was white with the same symbols in red. A piece of paper fluttered down when he unfolded it. “Don’t take this off until you have Muraki back,” it was written on it with purple ink in an elegant script. This was for real, Oriya told himself and shivered. 

He pushed his fear aside and picked up the mask that was lying underneath the clothes. “Another fox,” he grinned. 

“Maybe I should call you ‘Lord Fox’ from now on,” Su smiled. 

“Not you too,” Oriya groaned. “Maybe you should stop calling me ‘Lord’ this or that altogether. It’s ridiculous. I’m Oriya.”

Su stood up. “Let me help you change,” he said. “Lord Mibu.”

“I am your Boss’ servant. Surely that puts you higher than me in whatever hierarchy you have?”

“You are not my Boss’ servant yet, and even when you will be, you will still be you. Lord Mibu.”

“There is no way to make you stop, is there?”

“No.”

He sighed. Su acted like there was something important behind that title, something he should know. He suspected he’d find out when he died. “I should get ready. I don’t feel ready.” 

Su smiled. “You are. I feel it.”

Encouraging lies and the men who needed them, Oriya smiled. “Thank you.”


	3. Chapter 3

Akihito had been worried if Oriya could give a good performance for that crowd. Not because he wasn’t good, but he doubted that audience would appreciate traditional music. In fact, when he’d found out the line-up, he’d tried to talk Oriya out of playing. Oriya had insisted, something about how he had to do this, and it was important to participate, and this was for Muraki. Blah, blah, blah. 

The moment he heard the drums and the heavy bass guitar opening he realized he shouldn’t have worried. It was fast, it was loud, it was ferocious; it was suitable for a rock concert. Oriya’s choice of an electric shamisen also made sense; anything else would sound weak next to the bass or the guitar. 

The performance was also quite dramatic and rock-and-roll. Everyone was dressed partly or fully in traditional clothes and wore masks, but while the two bassists and the guitarists roamed the stage, Oriya sat formally in the middle, like nothing touched him. it was visually impressive. 

Then suddenly everything went quiet, with Oriya singing Zangetsu in a deep, rough voice as if he’d been crying or fucking earlier. And as if that wasn’t enough, one of his friends stepped on the stage and started singing as well, in a deep, mellow voice that dripped of sex. Despite the mask that he wore Akihito was certain who the second singer was, and for a moment he wondered how Oriya had managed to get him to help. But as they kept singing, Akihito felt the stirrings of warm desire inside his belly, his cock beginning to strain against his trousers.

The music picked up in intensity again. The last verses were growled over a guitar and shamisen duet that sounded like they dueling rather than complementing each other. The guitar gave up, and the piece ended with a fast and brief shamisen solo. 

The stage went dark and the crowd went wild. Akihito wondered why he’d ever worried about Oriya. But more importantly, he wondered where Asami was. He really wanted to get rid of his erection.


	4. Chapter 4

Muraki felt a change of pressure in the air that surrounded him. Something was coming. It made his body ache. Whatever it was, it hurtled towards him, powerful and heady, focused only on him. 

He stood his ground as he saw it, a pale blue light that burned hot white at its centre. It hurt his eyes, and he closed them, unable to stand its brilliance. Moments later the force enveloped him. Muraki gasped.

He expected it to burn, but it felt like the warmth of spring morning sun on his skin. Pleasant, not violent, caressing, not tearing, a gentle breeze instead of a gale. Its white hot heart was nothing but love. A love that allowed no arguments, that was constant and patient and waited. Kept waiting for so long, in fact, it had been stripped of words. It was just this endless, inexpressible feeling that covered him, cocooned him, protected him, like so many lovers’ arms. 

Muraki stopped resisting it. He let himself be wrapped up in it, relaxing in its embrace, and its warmth, and its immensity. Even when he felt the pull away from where he was, he didn’t resist. He knew what was happening. 

When he opened his eyes, he found himself lying on cold stepping stones. He looked up, and saw the familiar outline of a shrine. Ah, he was in Sagano, the only place in Kyoto that resonated well with his natural energy. A wise choice. 

He sat up, foot almost falling inside the crack that had opened beside him. He smiled. His own energy had been like a hammer, falling down and smashing along Tokyo’s ley lines. Whoever had brought him back had used their energy like a lazer scalpel. But where was this benefactor of his?

Muraki looked around until he located a figure lying on the ground not far from him. He stood up and took his first real step in a year. His body felt heavy, pinned down by gravity, and he wobbled. Then he fell. He forced himself to stand up, take another step, and rise again, when he fell down for the second time. He was Muraki. He would not crawl. 

Falling and rising, rising and falling. It felt like he had to relearn how to walk, but he didn’t mind. He would get there. He would start by reaching his savior. Then he would go home. To Ukyou. He’d felt her love embracing him when that power dragged him out of the limbo he was in. So strong, so unwavering, so patient; Ukyou loved him unconditionally and burned for him. 

“Ah, you idiot,” he sighed when he fell down next to Oriya. He lifted a pale wrist to feel his pulse. It was faint, but it was there. “What have you done this time?” 

Oriya opened his eyes and gave him a small, happy smile. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” 

Oriya closed his eyes with a sigh, still smiling. 

“You idiot.” Even though he had spent so much energy, he could feel it still thrumming inside Oriya, powerful and demanding. No matter how many protective seals and spells he had placed on him, his body wouldn’t be able to hold on to it for much longer. “You’ve taken too much,” he told him, even though Oriya wasn’t listening. 

He knew of two ways only of taking someone’s energy, and his preferred one was not one he would use on his friend. “Forgive me,” he said leaning down to kiss Oriya. His mouth opened like a flower for him, and the power that flowed from him to Muraki was sweeter than any other he’d ever tasted. Sweeter than Tsuzuki’s even. 

Muraki took and took and took, until he thought he would drown in it. The energy made him steady, restored his limbs, healed his wounds, satisfied his hunger and his thirst, made him hard and had him coming like a teenager discovering sex for the first time. So good, so very good, it was almost divine. 

He didn’t know for how long he was kissing Oriya, but he knew when the energy changed. From overpowering and excessive it turned sweet and strong at the same time, no longer a bulldozer but a steel sword inside a soft sheath. A flower with such deep roots that nothing could move it. He let go. 

Oriya was still unresponsive. Muraki searched his clothes for his mobile, found it and called Kokakurou. “You idiot.”


	5. Chapter 5

Feilong glared at Muraki. He didn’t know if he wanted to beat Oriya or hug him. “Explain. This.”

“I was hurt during the earthquake and I forgot who I was,” he started.

“Don’t lie to me. I’m not Ukyou. You faked your death, didn’t you? And Oriya found out and you hurt him,” he hissed. 

Muraki laughed. “Do you see any marks on him? I never hurt him. I would never, ever hurt him.” He felt Oriya’s pulse for a few seconds. He stood up. “No, he’s fine. He will wake up when he’s rested.”

“You bastard.” Feilong punched him. 

Muraki allowed it. “I understand you’re upset,” he said. 

“Upset doesn’t begin to cover it.” Feilong kicked Oriya’s legs. “And that idiot. Being dragged into your affairs again. I don’t know if I can forgive that.”

Muraki smirked. “Of course you will. You love him.” Muraki pushed Feilong down, pressed on his shoulders and kept him down. “Or have you never dragged him into your affairs?”

“I…” Feilong looked away. Of course he had. 

“You have,” Muraki said. “So, don’t be a sanctimonious, hypocritical prick that says you can’t forgive Oriya for being what he is: ridiculously loyal to those he loves. What he did, he did it for me and Ukyou, and I swear to you, he’s done similar things for you.” Muraki sighed. “He’s an idiot, yes, but he’s our idiot. I can’t protect him from himself, and it seems that you can’t either. The least we can do is accept him, don’t you agree?”

Feilong sighed, looking at Oriya. “Easy for you to say. He loves you.”

Muraki hit him on the back of his head. “Yes. And he loves you. You’re not listening to me.”

“Shut up,” Oriya growled. “You’re giving me a headache.” 

Feilong forgot about his anger and his jealousy. He broke free from Muraki’s hold and hugged him. “You idiot, you made me worry so much.”

Orya hugged him. 

“Next time you do anything so stupid, tell me about it. I’ll have your back.”

Oriya nodded. 

Feilong heard Muraki leave the room. “So, was he ever dead?”

“No. Just, well, in a different plane of existence.”

He sighed. “I should take up physics as a hobby.”

“What?”

“Multiverses, different planes of existence, powers. This is the stuff of physics. I read a book about it at some point, but didn’t pay too much attention because it was before I met you. It was all theoretical back then.” 

Oriya laughed. “Maybe you should endow a chair at a University, so they can study it.”

“Maybe I should. The Liu Chair in Theoretical Physics. Sounds good, doesn’t it?” He smiled. 

“Very good.” Oriya made a face. “I need a bath. And food. Join me?” 

“Only if I can wash your hair.”

“Can I wash yours?” 

“Why do you even have to ask? Of course you can, whenever you want.” Feilong stood up, pulling Oriya with him. 

Life used to be simpler, but not as exciting. Wasn’t that the point of it?

&*&*

“I’ve wandered a lot in the last year,” Muraki said in a soft, serious voice. “I’ve learned things. Many things.”

Feilong raised an eyebrow. “What do you want of me?”

“I know how to lift the curse that binds Oriya to his House.”

Feilong startled. Several times he’d heard Oriya speak of how he was bound to his house, but he’d always thought he meant it figuratively. “A curse.”

“An old one.”

“Why are you telling me this? You will lift it, won’t you?”

Muraki smiled, shaking his head. “No. I will not. Because I’m selfish. It’s good to have a safe haven. It’s good to have him watch over me. Protect me from human law.” He snorted. “Divine law too. My knight in the shadows.” Muraki sat down, suddenly looking very tired. “I tried to take him out of the board last year. The idiot put himself back in the game.” He stared at Feilong. “But maybe you will? He’s your Knight as much as he is mine.”

Feilong sat down. “What would I need to do?”

“Burn his House down. Burn that tree at the heart of the garden down. Burn everything.” Smoke rose between Muraki’s feet and started filling the room slowly.

Feilong woke up, gasping for air, the burn of ash in his mouth. Oriya was still sleeping peacefully beside him. He grabbed his gown and went outside. It was a lovely morning, the sky still a deep, dark blue painted purple at the edges. Dawn creeping in. The garden was covered in a fine, sparkling mist. Night still lingering. He shivered.

He stared at the huge cherry tree. Supposing this was not a dream. Supposing he did burn everything down, that this strange place that hovered between two worlds could indeed be brought down by simple, human means. Supposing he did; what then?

He could take Oriya with him. Let him (help him?) start his own business in Hong Kong. Maybe a restaurant – just a restaurant, not a front for illegal activities of any kind. Maybe a dojo, so he could pass on his martial skills. Maybe watch him focus on his music, practice and play and record all the old-fashioned songs he liked. Maybe observe him picking up an academic career cut short by familial duty. So many possibilities. But then again…. 

What about the loss to himself? Kokakurou had become a place of relaxation, a place of peace. A place where he did not have to be the leader of Baishe, if he so chose. But more importantly, it was a place where no police could come after him and no human law could touch him. The place from which he’d started expanding his organization in Japan. The second heart of his empire. Could he lose that?

He’d grown fond of Kokakurou. Of its antiquated rooms, the storeroom with its priceless treasures, the old-fashioned kitchen and bathrooms. The garden that changed with the seasons but was not touched by time. The faint sounds of laughter and music every evening. Even the cherry tree that reminded him of a vampire at first; now he thought of it as a protective spirit, casting its shadow like so many tender hands opening in embrace. 

If he burned it down, he would miss it. Maybe Oriya too would miss it, this house where he grew up, where he hid his toys under the porch, where he planted his favourite irises, and where he buried his goldfish when they died. Did he have the right to destroy Oriya’s place of memories?

And would burning it down mean cutting off Oriya’s other abilities? His awareness of spirits and ghosts and gods? Would it take away his second sight? And if it did, wouldn’t it be like disabling him? Could he risk that?

He heard a soft sound, but didn’t look back.

“You’re up early,” Oriya told him in a sleep-scratchy voice.

“I had a bad dream.”

Oriya hugged him. “Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Alright.” His embrace tightened.

Feilong leaned into him, letting him bear most of his weight. “Your garden looks pretty in the morning.”

“Yes.” Oriya made a soft sound. “I like being here before day breaks. Look at all the different colours in the sky. The purples, and the pinks, and the blues. It’s like music. And just as ephemeral.”

“Yes.”

“Listen to the birds. Isn’t this a nice way to wake up? Fresh air, bird song, sleepy flowers?” Oriya nuzzled him, pushing his hair away from his nape, and then kissed him there. 

Feilong sighed. “It is.” How could he think of destroying Oriya’s home? 

“You don’t sound happy. Is that dream still bothering you? Dreams are nothing but ways for our brain to understand the world. Nothing more. Nothing that should worry you.”

He turned around and hugged Oriya. “You are far too awake for me. I don’t understand half of what you just said.”

Oriya laughed and kissed him.

Feilong felt weak. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t burn this place that was so precious to Oriya and had become a second home to him. He couldn’t do it, even it meant sharing Oriya with his House. If Muraki, the only person in the world who loved Oriya as much as he did, couldn’t do it, how could he? He couldn’t. He was weak. And selfish. 

He wanted Oriya’s connections. He wanted the collaboration with Oriya’s father. He wanted his haven. He wanted his safe base of operations. He wanted a place with no police hovering over him. He wanted everything Kokakurou offered. 

Perhaps one day he would burn it. But for now he would keep their Knight in the shadows. He hugged Oriya tighter. God forgive him, he couldn’t free him any more than Muraki could. 

 

The end


End file.
